Shock and Awe

Ever since I could talk, I’ve loved to sing. Ever since elementary school, I’ve loved being on the stage. For me, there is nothing as exciting, as invigorating, as FUN as performing in front of an audience. So I look forward every year to performing, alongside my husband, in a local Christmas production.

Now, this isn’t just any old “local Christmas production.” Don’t be imagining a nativity with shepherds wearing old bathrobes and Joseph dropping the Baby Jesus on his head while bored teenagers forget the words to “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” This is not badly-painted cardboard sets and an out-of-tune piano in a church basement. Not that there’s anything wrong with that – I’ve been in many of those productions and they are wonderful in their own, unique, homespun way. But this particular production is high-end, big budget, professional, go big or go home type theatre. We’re talking full professional orchestra, Broadway sets, elaborate costumes, trained vocalists, and precision dancing. This is legit theatre with an RE at the end.

One of my favorite moments in this production is at the end of the opening sequence: The choir processes down the aisles, wearing choir robes and carrying large candles, then moves up onto risers on the stage, and just as we turn out toward the audience, the orchestra segues into the sweeping opening chords of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.” 

The music alone gives me chillbumps, but as we look out into the audience, I get even more chillbumps as I look out over an ocean of excited faces full of anticipation. There are usually a handful of youngsters in the front row dressed in their holiday finery, the girls in sparkly party dresses and the boys in festive sweaters or the occasional shirt and tie. Each one is leaning forward, eyes wide, the footlights reflecting off their awestruck faces. For many of them, this is the very first theatrical experience of their entire lives. They have no idea what to expect, no idea what they’re in for. But I know, and I love watching their faces as the show unfolds before them.

But this year, I have two new young faces to watch as something new and exciting unfolds before them: my own children. This year, my 5-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter are joining the cast of the show, as elves.

(The two in Santa hats are mine)

Already I’ve seen their excitement as each layer is added to the production: The first time they sang in a room full of 85 (!!!) other kids; the first time they walked through the wings and onto the stage; the first time they wore their costumes and carried their props; the first time the full orchestra accompanied them; the first time Santa (“He’s not really Santa; he’s just pretending, just like we’re just pretending to be elves.”) appeared to sing with them. And when the show opens tomorrow night, I’ll get to see their faces the first time they step out onto the stage and see the same audience I do, the faces looking back at them with excitement and anticipation.

Our show ends with a lovely and moving live nativity, framed by the chorus on each side of the stage. As we enter, portraying humble villagers in Bethlehem coming to see the “newborn King”, the director always reminds us: “You’re seeing a miracle right in front of you. Your faces should show shock and awe.” It’s become tradition for the cast to whisper to each other as we wait to make that entrance, “Shock and awe. Shock and awe!!” And that’s what sums up this experience for me: Shock and awe. Shock and awe. It is truly an awesome experience.

Curtain Up, Light the Lights

Tonight is opening night of Reagle Music Theatre’s annual production of “ChristmasTime.” It’s the 5^th time I’ve performed in the show, and I know it well. I know where my entrances are, how much time I have for each costume change, and which props I carry in each scene. I’ve memorized my music and I know my blocking. I’m even solid on my choreography (which is officially a Christmas miracle). I have no fear of making a mistake or not knowing what to do if something goes wrong. And yet, I still have butterflies in my stomach.

The first time I performed in this show, I was terrified on opening night. But that time, I wasn’t entirely sure of my entrances, I depended on others to tell me what costume to change into next, I still wasn’t solid on all my lyrics and blocking, and I was definitely shaky on some of the choreography. But I got through it with the help of veterans who nudged me into position, made sure I was in the right costume, whispered upcoming dance steps, and just generally shepherded me around. And each succeeding year, I was more comfortable and more confident, and the terror subsided into fear, then jitters, and now, it’s pure excitement.

It’s exciting to be a part of a performance that plays such an important role in so many people’s holiday seasons. There are audience members who have seen this show every year for the past 20 years or more. There are people in the audience who used to come with their parents and who now bring their children. There are parents in the audience watching their children play elves who used to play elves themselves. There are new audience members who, by intermission, have already decided to make the show an annual tradition with their family. I have never yet not been thanked by someone in the audience for making their Christmas extra-special.

What a joy to be a part of something with such a rich tradition! What a blessing to be a blessing to others during this holiday season. What a privilege to bring a message of hope and joy and thanksgiving at a time of year when that message is so often lost in the busy shuffle of shopping and entertaining and chauffeuring kids to parties and activities. We may be up on stage to bring joy to the audience, but we can hardly help bringing joy to our own hearts, as well.

No wonder it gives me butterflies.

Same Time Next Year

Five years ago, I performed in the Reagle Players’ annual production of “It’s ChristmasTime” for the first time. I was newly in love with the man who would soon become my husband, and that new love was imprinted on every scene that we did together. And every year since, re-staging those same numbers brings back the thrill and excitement of falling in love, truly in love, for the very first time.

I’ve often said that because we were older when we got married (I was 39; he was 45), we cherish our relationship more than some. People who marry young and who have been in the same relationship for basically all of their adult lives must find it so easy to take that relationship for granted. And as the often-exhausted parent of two small children, I can see that it is also easy to let the husband-wife relationship fall to the bottom of the priority list once you’re busy playing mom and dad all the time. So I am thankful that I have this event every single year that brings back to my mind everything that made me fall in love with my husband.

This show is really the perfect venue to sum up our relationship. Since it’s a similar production from year to year, it’s put together very quickly with a minimal rehearsal schedule. Which is great for the veterans, but it means that the newbies get a LOT of stuff thrown at them in a very short time. Those of you who know me personally know that I don’t do well with last-minute information, and any of you who have ever performed in a show with me know that I totally stress out about last-minute changes to blocking and choreography. So to get music one month before the show, learn choreography a week before the show, and see a costume plot two days before the show was incredibly stressful for me. Not to mention not knowing the order of the show until dress rehearsal. Most men would have been ready to wring my neck with my constant questions and anxiety, but my sweetheart was patient and understanding, and constantly reassured me that I would be just fine – and, more importantly, assured me that he would be by my side to make sure nothing went wrong. During that first production, I learned that I could trust and rely on him. And he learned that I was willing to step out of my comfort zone to make him happy. Interestingly enough, we now have several scenes where I arrive on stage first and look around for him, then he comes from behind and takes my hand or puts his arm around me. That, too, is a good symbol of our relationship: I was right where I was supposed be, but I was alone and looking for someone, and as soon as he appeared I felt happier and had more of a purpose.

So every year, as we once again step on that stage, my heart goes back to the place where it was all those years ago seeing my husband through the eyes of love, fresh and unspoiled. It’s good for me, and it’s good for US, to be able to remember so clearly what our love was like before it was clouded with the cares of children and money and jobs and reality. And so every year, I look forward to that magic reset button. What do you say, sweetheart? Same time next year?

In 2007, we were newly in love

In 2008, we were newlyweds

[In 2009 I didn’t perform because I was busing having a baby the day of the first rehearsal]

In 2010, we found out on opening night that we were expecting baby #2

In 2011, we were officially "married with children"

And in 2012, we will be happily continuing the tradition in a few short weeks!

June 3 Photo: On My Plate

When I first saw the assignment “On Your Plate,” I thought about it quite literally. I imagined a photograph of either a beautiful gourmet meal waiting to be eaten, or possibly the remnants of a beautiful gourmet meal sadly waiting to be washed away. But as I thought about it a bit more, I was reminded of the many projects and tasks I currently have “on my plate.”

As most of us do, I have a mental list of things I would like to work on (or start, or finish) over the next few days, weeks, and months. Some of them are pretty major, like repainting the living room or building a three-season porch. Some of them are pretty minor, like putting my winter clothes in the attic or dropping off the kids’ outgrown clothes at Goodwill or cleaning out the toybox. Some of them are somewhere in the middle, like buying my daughter a dresser or putting away all the laundry in the laundry room or getting my car inspected. Some of them are interesting, some of them are exciting, and a lot of them are pretty mundane and boring. But one of the most interesting – and challenging – tasks currently on my plate is refurbishing the Wooden Soldier costumes.

Some of you who live near me may be familiar with the Reagle Music Theatre of Greater Boston. One of their most well-known productions is their annual Christmas show. And one of the most beloved numbers from the show is a recreation of the Radio City Rockettes’ famous March of the Wooden Soldiers from their Christmas Spectcular, a precision military march that ends with a line of Wooden Soldiers being “shot” with a cannon and falling slowly, like a line of dominos. It is my understanding that Reagle is the only performing group in the country other than the Rockettes themselves who have the legal rights to perform this original choreography, and even better than that, we own a set of the original Radio City Rockettes’ costumes. It is an amazing number, and one of my personal favorites of the entire Christmas production.

And I am honored to have been asked to help to refurbish those costumes. Over time, some of the bright colors have begun to fade. So the Reagle folks spent hours of time researching and finding suppliers for the original fabric and trim, or as close to it as possible. And I, along with several other seamstresses, was tasked with analyzing the existing costumes to faithfully recreate the pieces that needed replacing. I carefully created a pattern, put it together, compared it to the original, tweaked it a bit, compared it again, and kept adjusting until I was certain that my recreation was a perfect match to the spectacular (no pun intended) original. And now that I have made all the replacement pieces, I have a set of the costume jackets in my living room waiting to be brought to new life. It’s exciting, it’s intimidating, and it’s beautiful!

And that’s what’s on my plate.

Giving a Little Bit Back

Tonight, a group of singers from Reagle Music Theater are dressing up in our Victorian garb and going caroling. But this isn’t just any caroling outing. This is a very special gift of caroling, because we are caroling at a hospice facility. (http://www.parmenter.org/hospice.cfm)

Those of you who know me personally know that both my parents were served by hospice care at the end of their lives. In my dad’s case, he had hospice nurses caring for him at home for several months; in my mom’s case, she lived at an inpatient hospice facility for about a week. In both cases, the workers we met were unbelievably caring, compassionate, and helpful to not only the patient, but to the family. They offered us support and understanding. They made all the difference in the world in incredibly difficult circumstances. And with my dad passing away in September and my mom passing away in April, we had some time to process our grief before the holiday season arrived. I can only imagine how much more difficult it must be for families that have a loved one in hospice during the Christmas season.

How does someone “celebrate” what they know will be their last Christmas? How does a family celebrate the holiday knowing the grief that is soon to follow? Giving presents isn’t really appropriate. Most hospice patients are ill enough that they can’t enjoy a special meal or edible treat. Many of them are in too much pain or too semiconscious to even appreciate conversations with family. But nearly all of them can hear and enjoy music. And most of them know Christmas carols from their earliest childhood and associate them with happy memories of family celebrations. So hearing Christmas carols is one gift that we can give both patients and their families that is a way for them to celebrate the holiday one last time, something that can be a happy memory for them of their final Christmas with their loved one.

Both of my kids were up in the middle of the night last night and I’m sure by the time this evening rolls around I’ll be pretty tired. But knowing that I might be bringing a small bit of joy into the lives of some people who are struggling to find joy in this usually joyous season is enough to motivate me to get going and do it. And when I get home, I’ll give my little angels (and my big angel, too) an extra-tight squeeze and an extra-long kiss, in thankfulness and joy that they are healthy, happy, and home, and I’ll say an extra prayer for all of those whose loved ones are none of those things.

"ChristmasTime" Is Here!

For the past four years, my kickoff to the Christmas season has been performing in (or at least watching) the Christmas production of Reagle Music Theatre. Reagle has been performing this show for nearly 40 years. It’s modeled after the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, and includes Rockette-style dancing (including the March of the Wooden Soldiers, complete with the impressive fall at the end); a large vocal ensemble; a teddy bear Nutcracker; dancing and singing Santas, elves, schoolgirls, and Raggedy Anns and Andys; an audience singalong; a visit from Santa; and a living Nativity. It’s a treat for all ages, and it’s a wonderful festive celebration of Christmas.

I first performed in this show when my husband and I were just dating. He knew I was a performer, and he told me that he only wanted to do the show that year if I did it with him, since the rehearsal schedule for the month of November is intense enough that we wouldn’t be able to see each other much unless we both performed in the show. I was flattered that he considered me talented enough to join the group, and I warned him that I tend to get very anxious and a bit crazy during tech week, so if he saw me at my worst and still wanted to date me, I’d know we were on solid ground. He reassured me and coached me throughout the process, and I made many wonderful friends during that first year. And they were all delighted for both of us just a few weeks later when we announced our engagement.

The second year was much less stressful, because it was just refreshing my memory instead of having to learn everything from scratch, plus I was among friends from the very beginning. I was no longer one of the “newbies”; in fact, I was able to offer some help to the newbies that year because I had put together a bunch of notes and cheat sheets that I shared with them. It felt great to be able to offer help instead of asking for it. And of course, being a starry-eyed newlywed, every scene reminded me of the previous year when we were newly in love.

Our third Christmas together, we missed out on performing because I was busy giving birth to our son when rehearsals started. The wonderful specialness of that year was being in the audience and appreciating the performance from a spectator’s perspective, and also in having my son in the audience with us, at six weeks old, fascinated by the bright lights and beautiful music. His wide-eyed wonder was the perfect symbol of the season.

Last year was perhaps the most special performance at all, because I found out just a few hours before curtain on opening night that I was pregnant with our second child. And to make it even more special, during one performance, my husband sneaked our son into one of the scenes with kids.

This year marked my return to the stage after our daughter was born, and it was a special time for my husband and I, once again, to spend “couple time” together at rehearsals. Thanks to his wonderful mother and daughter, our kids were well taken care of while we rehearsed and performed, and we were able to enjoy some much-needed social and musical relaxation. And once again, as I was on stage, I recalled each past year of performing: falling in love, being a newlywed, being a new mother, and being a new mother again. This show is, in many ways, a symbol of both our growing love and our growing family. The message of the show is the peace and joy of the Christmas season, and the birth of Christ the Savior, and it reminds me that the holiday is not about giving or receiving physical gifts but about the gifts of love and sacrifice.

May we all be reminded of that as we go through this often hectic and tense Christmas season. May the joy and peace of the Christ Child fill each of your hearts in the coming days and weeks, as we approach the birthday of Him who brings salvation to the world. Oh come let us adore Him!

30 Days of Thanksgiving: Day 12

Today, the “person” or “cause” I am thankful for is not exactly either a person or a cause. Today, I am thankful for the Reagle Music Theatre of Greater Boston (http://www.reaglemusictheatre.com/).

I first performed with Reagle when I started dating my husband. He had performed with them for a number of years, and since I was also a theater performer, it was natural that he would invite me to do a show with him. The show we did was called “It’s ChristmasTime” and is based on the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. The binder of music I had to learn was intimidatingly thick, and the blocking and choreography, although not extensive, was a lot to learn in such a short time. Since the show is basically the same from year to year, and includes many of the same performers year after year, the rehearsal process is more of a refresher course than a full-out learning process. I was somewhat (read: completely) overwhelmed, but the performers around me all encouraged me and helped me out, reminding me of costume changes and subtly whispering the name of the next number or the next step when I drew a blank. It was a wonderfully warm and welcoming group and they made the experience so much fun.

In the years since that first show, I have appeared in a number of Reagle productions and have made many friends in the group. As theater friends often do, they have become my family as well as my friends. Ryan and Katie have dozens of honorary aunts and uncles who delight in hearing about their latest exploits and who love to visit with them. Cast parties feel more like family reunions. Despite varying ages, backgrounds, and political leanings, we all enjoy each other's company and can always find common ground.

I am so very thankful for all these people who share the joy of performing with me, and who have become such a dear part of my life.

Three things that I am thankful for today are: a wonderful pediatrician with a nearby office, the smell of my favorite shampoo, and the consistent good manners of a certain young boy who lives in my house. 

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Today, I am Superwoman. I am wearing so many hats that you can’t even see my head. I am mother supreme, I am master baker, I am prolific author, I am seamstress extraordinaire, and I am professional chanteuse. Fortunately, I am also an organizational whiz, otherwise I would never get everything done that needs doing today.

Ryan has been a bit clingy and whiny over the past few days, so he’s claiming a bit more attention than he otherwise might. And since he’s had a few babysitters lately and will be having a bunch more next week, I feel the need to give him extra cuddles and snuggles to reassure him that Mommy isn’t going anywhere. I want to be certain he feels secure and loved, even more so than usual. (Daddy would probably say I’m spoiling him a bit and he’s just fine – which of course he is – but that’s why babies have Mommies AND Daddies.) So instead of just letting him whine in his playpen for a few hours while I get other things done, I’m spending a lot more time playing with him, sitting and reading with him, and just generally keeping him company.

Next on the list is my one make-ahead item for Thanksgiving dinner: Parker House rolls. I love Parker House rolls. No, that’s not exactly true. I ADORE Parker House rolls. I could probably live for a week, quite happily, on nothing but Parker House rolls. And I have fond childhood memories of having Parker House rolls at family get-togethers like Easter, Christmas, birthdays, and of course, Thanksgiving. So since the pies are being contributed by various family members, I decided the one thing I’d make completely from scratch for Thanksgiving dinner (I’m not counting heating the veggies or gravy or even cooking the turkey or making the stuffing – there’s very little culinary finesse involved in those) would be a batch of fresh Parker House rolls. Making these rolls is not especially difficult, but it is time-consuming. And not just time-consuming, but time-dependent, since there are long pauses while the dough rises but when it’s ready, it has to be dealt with NOW! (Motherhood has prepared me well for that kind of demand, actually.) So as soon as Ryan went down for his nap, I went to work scalding and measuring and kneading. And providing that Ryan’s nap schedule cooperates (ha!), I should be able to get in the next step right before he wakes up from his nap and starts demanding his lunch.

And until that stage is reached, I have a few minutes to get my blog going. I often think about ideas for a blog entry at random times of the day or night, as something strikes me. Sometimes I even lie in bed at night, mentally composing the next day’s blog. (Sometimes I even remember them the next morning!) And then some days, I sit in front of a blank Word document and discover that my mind is just as devoid of ideas as the screen in front of me. Fortunately, most of the time all I need to do is mentally review the previous day and there’s something that Ryan did that is fertile material for a blog entry. And today was one of those days when I did have a nervous moment staring at the screen – but even while I was staring, my inside voice was reminding me, “You need to check the rolls! You need to finish that hem! You need to memorize your lyrics!” And I knew what today’s blog would be. So here I am, inviting all of you into the glorious chaos that is my life.

If by some chance I manage to finish this entry and the rolls aren’t ready for the next step and Ryan is still napping, I’ll have a chance to jump back into my role as seamstress. As many of you who know me personally are aware, for the past few years (with the exception of last year, when I was kind of busy with a new baby), Herb and I have performed in the Reagle Music Theatre’s annual Christmas production, “It’s ChristmasTime!” This is a wonderful show that I look forward to every year. Herb and I first performed in the show together when we were just dating, so it will always have a special place in my heart. But aside from that, it is a show full of wonderful performers who are also my dear friends, and it is a show full of wonderful Christmas music, both familiar and a bit less common. And it is a delightfully festive way to begin the Christmas season, both for the audience and for the performers. The interesting thing for the performers is that every year, the cast is a mix of new performers and cast members who have done the show for ten, fifteen, even twenty or more years. It’s a joy to us veterans to watch the newbies flounder but then find their feet, to recall our own moments of terror and feeling of unpreparedness, and to reassure them that no-one will notice if they sing the wrong words, and that if they forget where to go next someone will nudge them into the right spot.

But part of the challenge in having so many newcomers in the cast is that they all have to somehow get costumes. Reagle has a pretty extensive stock of costumes, but there is still a limited number of sizes to fit an unlimited number of various-sized bodies. Which means that there are always piles of last-minute alterations. A skirt to be hemmed here, a vest to be let out there, a zipper to be mended, a hook to be re-stitched, a pulled seam to be re-sewn. So after last night’s rehearsal, I found myself heading home with a stack of costumes needing little mends and tweaks. I spent last night taking my seam ripper to this and my needle and thread to that, digging through my sewing box for a length of fabric in the right shade of brown or a hook the right size to fit an existing loop. And this morning most of the pile was still remaining, so while Ryan is either dozing upstairs or curiously peering over the playpen wall to see what I’m doing, I’ll be continuing to sew up a storm until everything in the “to be done” pile is finally in the “done” pile.

The reason that I need to get it all into the done pile today is that we have one more rehearsal tonight, and I need to deliver everything to their rightful owners in case any more tweaks are needed. Which means that as well as finishing all my sewing, I need to polish up my own music. It’s amazing how much two years and having a baby can dissolve blocking and lyrics out of a person’s brain. But I have no doubt that a few more run-throughs and it’ll all be back in my head. (And if it’s not, I’m sure some of the 20-year veterans will nudge me back into the correct spot.)

Hm, did I remember everything? Oh wait – I forgot to put eating on the schedule. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll make up for any missed meals on Thanksgiving Day.

Remembering the 1940s

This weekend, Herb and I will be performing in the Reagle Music Theatre’s production of “Remembering the 1940s”. We did the show together two years ago, and as we rehearse, not only do the lyrics come back to my mind and the dances come back to my feet, the emotions also come back to my heart. I had intended on writing a new blog entry today reflecting on the show, but I don’t think I can put it any better than I did following the production two years ago. So today’s entry is a reprint of the entry I wrote back then. And if reading it makes you interested in experiencing the show yourself, please visit Reagle’s website at www.reagleplayers.org for tickets to any of this weekend’s performances, at 2pm and 7pm on Saturday, September 25th and at 2pm on Sunday, September 26th.


War and Remembrance (originally posted on September 28, 2008)

This weekend I performed in the Reagle Players' production of "Remembering the 40s". The show is a revue of 1940s era music, mixed with scenes and skits from that time period. The first act opens with a fun dance number with youngsters dancing and romancing, without a care in the world, and then we see a projection of a newspaper headline announcing of the bombing of Pearl Harbor and a voiceover of President Roosevelt solemnly intoning, "December 7th, 1941, a date which will live in infamy." Suddenly the carefree young men are being drafted into the Army and sent overseas while the young women are on the homefront, raising money for the war effort and waiting for their men to come home. We see the troops bidding farewell to their loved ones, being entertained by the USO, and huddling miserably in camp, waiting patiently and hopefully for letters from home. We see the women working in the factories, patiently carrying on life at home. The act ends with their joyful reunion, and then Act 2 continues as a 1940s radio broadcast, complete with Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy, Burns and Allen, Abbott and Costello, and cheesy radio commercials ("Try Rrrrrrrrrrrexall Bismarex!!"), as well as the "Cavalcade Singers" performing patriotic and traditional numbers from the time, from "Sentimental Journey" to "In the Mood" to "Cuanto la Gusta" to "The Stage Door Canteen".

When we started rehearsing the show, I thought of it as a delightful time capsule; patriotic Irving Berlin songs that made me want to sit up straight or march in place, charming jazzy songs like "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" and "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree" that made me want to jump up and dance. I understood that these fun, upbeat songs were the generation's way of keeping their chins up, of cheering up a dismal nation, of boosting the morale of people who were tired of war and just wanted their loved ones to come home safely. But until I was singing those songs in an auditorium full of men and women who had lived it, who had sat at home and wondered if they would ever see their father/brother/husband/boyfriend again, who had lived in cold, dusty, insect-infested war camps, who had taken refuge in foxholes and trenches amid enemy fire, I don't think I got the full impact of the show. I was re-enacting USO shows for men who'd seen the original. I was playing the part of a Rosie the riveter who was sitting in the audience right in front of me. These people were the very youngsters we'd seen spooning in the soda shop in the opening number - and the same youngsters whose lives had been shattered by Roosevelt's words. Suddenly the scenes we were portraying had a lot more significance.

As a performer, the best reward I can get is for members of the audience to tell me how much they enjoyed my performance, and I love being in the lobby as patrons are leaving, seeing their glowing faces and hearing their appreciative comments. But the comments after these performances were extra-special, as arthritic hands reached out to touch my arm and tiny women with white hair and sparkling eyes thanked me for reminding them of their youth, or stoop-shouldered men wearing hats or pins with military insignias wordlessly and solemnly nodded their thanks. I felt so inadequate as I thanked them for their service, for their sacrifice. All I did was get up on a stage and sing and dance. They are the heroes who gave their youth, their lives, for our country, so that my generation still has all the freedoms they prized so highly. I am honored and humbled to represent them in this show, and I hope that by being part of it, I am a little more aware of and grateful for the freedoms that I enjoy every day because of their bravery and sacrifice.

My White Knight

Let me preface this blog with a warning: Schmoop Alert! Schlock Alert! Soppiness Alert! Treacle Alert! Gross, Slobbery Romanticism Alert! Okay, you’ve been warned. Read on at your own personal risk of drowning in gooey sentiment.

Yesterday, I went to see a production of Meredith Willson’s “The Music Man” put on by the Reagle Music Theater in Waltham, MA. Over the past few years, I’ve seen a dozen productions at this theater and I’ve performed in a number of them myself. But Music Man has a special place in my heart because it’s the first show I ever saw here. And when I saw it, I had no idea that within a few short years I’d be married to the show’s photographer, I’d be the aunt of the adorable pair of child dancers, and I’d be friends with both leads and the majority of the cast. So of course, I listened to every line and every lyric with a certain sentimentality.

But the song that really touched my heart was Marian’s song, “My White Knight”. Her mother is accusing her of setting her sights too high for any man to attain, and she sings this lovely number explaining to her mother what exactly she’s looking for:

Being in love used to be my fav'rite dream. Oh, yes.

I've been in love more than anybody else has, I guess.

My first love heroic'ly ran the streetcar. I tingled at ev'ry clang clang.

Next I fell for the principal

But, oh that teacher who sang "In the Gloamin'."

Knee-deep in love--what a lovely dream! And yet, somehow,

Me deep in love's only half of what I'm longing for now.

I still love my being in love with someone,

But tell me, why couldn't there be somebody being in love with me?

All I want is a plain man. All I want is a modest man.

A quiet man, a gentle man, a straightforward and honest man

To sit with me in a cottage somewhere in the state of Iowa...

And I would like him to be more interested in me than he's in himself

And more interested in us than in me...

And if occasionally he'd ponder

What makes Shakespeare and Beethoven great,

Him I could love 'til I die. Him I could love 'til I die!

As I listened to those lyrics, it struck me that not only were those words an excellent description of what I had always wanted in a husband, but that they were a description of exactly what I'd gotten. My white knight IS plain, modest, gentle, straightforward, and honest. He IS happy to sit with me, if not exactly in a cottage in Iowa, certainly in a Colonial in Massachusetts. There’s no doubt that he is more concerned with me than with himself, and I know he is more concerned with us than with me. We’ve been known to have conversations now and then about Shakespeare and Beethoven (and Mozart and Rodgers and Hammerstein and Sondheim) and what makes them great.

But the best part of the parallel is the last line – not only COULD I love him ‘til I die, I WILL love him ‘til I die. Yes, I will indeed!!

War and Remembrance

In honor of Memorial Day, here is a reposting of a blog entry I wrote in September 2008.

This weekend I performed in the Reagle Players' production of "Remembering the 40s". The show is a revue of 1940s era music, mixed with scenes and skits from that time period. The first act opens with a fun dance number with youngsters dancing and romancing, without a care in the world, and then we see a projection of a newspaper headline announcing of the bombing of Pearl Harbor and a voiceover of President Roosevelt solemnly intoning, "December 7th, 1941, a date which will live in infamy." Suddenly the carefree young men are being drafted into the Army and sent overseas while the young women are on the homefront, raising money for the war effort and waiting for their men to come home. We see the troops bidding farewell to their loved ones, being entertained by the USO, and huddling miserably in camp, waiting patiently and hopefully for letters from home. We see the women working in the factories, patiently carrying on life at home. The act ends with their joyful reunion, and then Act 2 continues as a 1940s radio broadcast, complete with Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy, Burns and Allen, Abbott and Costello, and cheesy radio commercials ("Try Rrrrrrrrrrrexall Bismarex!!"), as well as the "Cavalcade Singers" performing patriotic and traditional numbers from the time, from "Sentimental Journey" to "In the Mood" to "Cuanto la Gusta" to "The Stage Door Canteen".


When we started rehearsing the show, I thought of it as a delightful time capsule; patriotic Irving Berlin songs that made me want to sit up straight or march in place, charming jazzy songs like "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" and "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree" that made me want to jump up and dance. I understood that these fun, upbeat songs were the generation's way of keeping their chins up, of cheering up a dismal nation, of boosting the morale of people who were tired of war and just wanted their loved ones to come home safely. But until I was singing those songs in an auditorium full of men and women who had lived it, who had sat at home and wondered if they would ever see their father/brother/husband/boyfriend again, who had lived in cold, dusty, insect-infested war camps, who had taken refuge in foxholes and trenches amid enemy fire, I don't think I got the full impact of the show. I was re-enacting USO shows for men who'd seen the original. I was playing the part of a Rosie the riveter who was sitting in the audience right in front of me. These people were the very youngsters we'd seen spooning in the soda shop in the opening number - and the same youngsters whose lives had been shattered by Roosevelt's words. Suddenly the scenes we were portraying had a lot more significance.

As a performer, the best reward I can get is for members of the audience to tell me how much they enjoyed my performance, and I love being in the lobby as patrons are leaving, seeing their glowing faces and hearing their appreciative comments. But the comments after these performances were extra-special, as arthritic hands reached out to touch my arm and tiny women with white hair and sparkling eyes thanked me for reminding them of their youth, or stoop-shouldered men wearing hats or pins with military insignias wordlessly and solemnly nodded their thanks. I felt so inadequate as I thanked them for their service, for their sacrifice. All I did was get up on a stage and sing and dance. They are the heroes who gave their youth, their lives, for our country, so that my generation still has all the freedoms they prized so highly. I am honored and humbled to represent them in this show, and I hope that by being part of it, I am a little more aware of and grateful for the freedoms that I enjoy every day because of their bravery and sacrifice.

Three on a Match

When I was a little girl, my mother would often make matching outfits for me, my older sister, and herself. Sometimes even our dolls would get in on the act with dresses made from scraps of our dresses. I loved dressing up like Mommy, and being the younger sister, I got the hand-me-downs as well so I could match Mommy twice as long, which delighted me to no end. So I suppose it was inevitable that Ryan would end up in outfits matching Daddy - and even Mommy as well.

Yep, that's all three of us wearing our matching Irish fisherman sweaters for the Reagle Irish Show. Daddy sings in the barbershop quartet every year, so he has a beautiful costume that includes a sweater embroidered with the words " 'tis himself".

I was filling in for the tenor at one performance, so I had a similar sweater boasting, naturally, " 'tis herself".

Well, since Daddy and Mommy already had matching outfits, of course Daddy was determined that Ryan get in on the act so we could be a complete set. We had some difficulties finding a wee Irish sweater (although Herb did find one that was actually TOO wee), but eventually Herb found an Irish import shop with a gorgeous hand-knit wool sweater in 24-month size. He brought it home on opening night of the show and I quickly stitched on the words " 'tis himself" and a shamrock in bright green thread.

Since the sweater is wool, Ryan did have a few objections when we first put it on him, and I was careful to put a long-sleeved onesie underneath so he wouldn't be too itchy. But once it was on we didn't have too many problems - until we tried to put him in the car seat, that is. The sweater is so bulky that we had to lengthen the straps as far as they would go and even then it was quite a stretch to wedge both baby and sweater into the seat and get him successfully strapped in. But as you can see, the result was well worth it. (Ryan might debate that point, but Daddy and Mommy definitely thought it was worth it.)

I have no doubt that I only have a few years to get away with the matching outfits before Ryan realizes how uncool it is and begins to object. (Boys get over that sort of thing much sooner than girls do, I'm afraid.) So I'd better take advantage of it while I can. But at least for now, I think he likes it.